


Tennis Lessons

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Tennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia needs Clarke to fill in for Raven in the tennis comp. Clarke has no idea how to play so O enlists the help of her brother to teach Clarke the basics. Only problem is Bellamy and Clarke hate each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this idea came from or why I wrote it. There is probably a bit much tennis talk but if you don't like it you can just skip over it, unless you would really like to learn the rules of tennis.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Octavia gushed into her phone. Clarke looked up, wondering who was on the phone and what was wrong with them. “It’s Raven,” Octavia mouthed at her.

            “What’s wrong?” Clarke asked worriedly.

            “Oh, it’s okay she’s fine,” Octavia told her. “I’m talking to Clarke,” Octavia said to Raven. She turned her attention back to Clarke for a moment. “Raven fell down the stairs at her apartment, but she’s totally fine,” Octavia assured Clarke. Clarke nodded and turned her attention back to the TV. “What do you mean not _totally_ okay?” Octavia asked suspiciously. Clarke lost focus on the TV again, worried about Raven. “You’ve got to be kidding me… yes I’m annoyed at you!” Octavia scowled. Okay, if Octavia was annoyed, Raven’s injuries couldn’t be too severe…

“I don’t care if you didn’t do it on purpose. How am I supposed to find someone else in less than two days?” She was silent for a moment, listening to Raven, before giving a loud snort of laughter. Clarke raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what was so funny when only a second ago Octavia had been fairly distressed.

            “Don’t be ridiculous!” Octavia said to Raven. “Clarke can’t play tennis. No offence,” she tacked on, seeing Clarke was listening. “I was talking to Clarke again! I don’t have time to give her a lesson, I have to work tomorrow. Yeah, I’m aware of that. They don’t like each other. He wouldn’t do it for free.” Octavia glanced at Clarke and Clarke frowned, not entirely sure what they were talking about, but getting the feeling she wasn’t going to like it. “True, I am very persuasive. Okay, but next time you sprain your ankle can you give me a little more warning? Bye!” Octavia ended the call and turned her attention to Clarke, smiling sweetly.

            “What was that all about?” Clarke asked suspiciously. Octavia walked over and sat beside her on the couch, all the while looking like a mischievous child who was pretending they were totally innocent. Clarke knew better than to ever believe Octavia was innocent in any way.

            “Well, the thing is, Raven sprained her ankle and can’t play in the tennis tournament we’re entered in on the weekend,” Octavia started.

            “And you want me to take her place?” Clarke guessed. Octavia nodded. Clarke sighed. “Can’t you just get your brother to fill in? Isn’t he a tennis coach?” she suggested.

            “It’s a _women’s_ tournament, Clarke. Bellamy isn’t allowed to play,” Octavia said patronisingly. Clarke rolled her eyes. Octavia really wasn’t doing anything to help her case by treating her like a child.

            “But I don’t even know how to play tennis!” Clarke pointed out.

            “Right, which is why Bellamy will give you a lesson,” Octavia informed her matter-of-factly.

            “Um, no,” Clarke immediately refused. Octavia gave her her best puppy dog eyes.

            “Pleeeease Clarke?” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes. “It’ll be really fun!”

            “I honestly can’t think of anything worse,” Clarke said flatly.

            “Don’t be such a spoil sport! Come on, I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for months! We’ll play a bit of tennis, meet some new people and drink a lot of alcohol. You don’t need to be good, you just need to know enough to not look like a total idiot on the court. Bell will give you the lesson for free.” Octavia convinced. Clarke looked at her sceptically. “Please?”

            Clarke exhaled dramatically before giving in. “Fine! I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to like it,” she warned.

            “I’d never dream of it. I’m gonna call Bell now and set up a time for your lesson! Yay!” Octavia hugged her before dialling her brother’s number. “Hey Bell!” she said cheerfully when he picked up.

Clarke watched her interestedly, wondering what Bellamy’s reaction to her request would be. She knew Bellamy’s one redeeming quality to be the fact that he loved his sister immensely and would do anything for her (and the fact that he was incredibly attractive, but that was beside the point), but she also knew he was not Clarke’s biggest fan. She was certain he’d refuse to give her a lesson.

The two of them had never really gotten along, despite both of them being two of the most important people in Octavia’s life. But Bellamy was just so… _infuriating._ He thought everything Clarke did was a waste of time, making snide remarks about her pursuit of an art degree and the fact that her family was well off, among other things. Just the thought of it made Clarke’s blood boil, and she wondered how she’d get through the lesson if he happened to agree to it. He really had no _right_ to make fun of her for studying art at college, when he’d never been to university himself. He was a _tennis coach_ for crying out loud, not exactly a prestigious career, unless you were coaching some big shot superstar player, which he most certainly was not. He just taught school kids and retirees down at the local tennis club.

“Uh huh, I understand that,” Octavia was saying to Bellamy. “But I reeeally want to play on the weekend and Clarke’s the only one who can do it. She doesn’t have class on Fridays.” Octavia gave Clarke a smile. “You know you love me,” she said to Bellamy. “Love you too, bye!” she grinned and put her phone away. “Success! You have a lesson with the one and only Bellamy Blake at 10am tomorrow!”

“I can hardly wait,” Clarke said sarcastically.

-

“Do you need to borrow something to wear to your tennis lesson? I know you don’t exercise,” Octavia said to Clarke before she left for work that morning.

“Hey! I run sometimes,” Clarke defended. Although she hadn’t been running in over a month. Still, she owned running shorts and sneakers, even if they were hardly ever used.

“Right, well have fun!” Octavia grinned and skipped out the door.

“Yeah, right,” Clarke muttered under her breath. She was pretty sure she had never dreaded something so much in her life. She knew she was going to make a fool of herself today, considering the fact that she knew _nothing_ about tennis. And normally she wouldn’t mind, she liked learning things and she could laugh at herself. If it had been Octavia giving her the lesson she was sure the two of them would have had a good time while laughing about Clarke’s lack of hand eye co-ordination.

But it wasn’t Octavia, it was Bellamy, and he gave her enough shit already. Add to that looking like a total maniac with a tennis racquet and Bellamy would be taunting her to the rest of her days. Octavia was lucky Clarke was such a good friend, honestly.

“She so owes me for this,” Clarke grumbled as she made her way to the tennis club just before ten. Bellamy wasn’t there yet, but she was a little early. Octavia herself never liked to arrive anywhere even five minutes early, so Clarke figured Bellamy was the same. When he still wasn’t there twenty minutes later Clarke was feeling angry and ready to go home. She had just made the decision to go home (it was pathetic enough she’d waited so long already) (if this was a date there was no way she would have waited so long) (it wasn’t a date though, why would she even think that?), when Bellamy pulled up in front of the courts. Clarke scowled at him as he carried two tennis racquets and a basket of tennis balls towards her.

“You’re still here,” Bellamy noted, coming to greet her.

“Yes I’m still here! Why are you so late?” Clarke demanded.

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d leave and I wouldn’t have to do this shitty favour,” Bellamy snorted.

“You’re lucky I didn’t leave, you would have had Octavia to answer to,” Clarke sniffed.

“Correction, _you_ would have had Octavia to answer to,” Bellamy said. He then proceeded to act out the conversation he would have had with Octavia. “I’m really sorry O, I was running late and I didn’t have Clarke’s number so I couldn’t let her know. By the time I got there she was already gone!” he put on a sad puppy dog face not too different from Octavia’s before smirking at Clarke.

“You’re an asshole,” Clarke spat.

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with, okay? Here take this,” he handed Clarke a ratty old tennis racquet. She wrapped her fist around it and waited for further instruction. Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Don’t you even know how to hold a racquet?” he said impatiently.

“Bellamy, let’s get one thing straight. I know nothing about tennis. Stop acting like you’re better than me because you know how to play some crappy sport,” Clarke snapped.

“Right, ‘cause you’ve never acted like you’re better than me,” Bellamy snorted.

“I… what?” Clarke said, taken aback. Bellamy ignored her.

“Hold it like this,” Bellamy demonstrated the grip on his own racquet. “You have to make a V with your thumb and forefinger, in line with the head of the racquet,” he instructed. Clarke adjusted her grip on the handle, copying Bellamy. “Got it?” he asked flippantly. Clarke rolled her eyes at his tone but nodded. “Great. Now go up the other end of the court and I’ll hit some balls at you and see how your technique is,” Bellamy said.

“I already told you, I don’t have a technique, I-,” Clarke started.

“Don’t know anything about tennis. I know. Shut up and get down there,” Bellamy demanded. Clarke seethed as she walked to the other end of the court. It had only been five minutes and she was ready to hit Bellamy over the head with her tennis racquet. Although, looking at the state of the thing it would probably do more damage to the racquet itself than to Bellamy.

“Where should I stand?” she called.

“Just start in the middle of the baseline,” Bellamy called back. Clarke looked at the lines on the court and decided the line at the back was probably the baseline. It seemed she guessed correctly since Bellamy didn’t yell at her. “Hold your racquet in both hands, spread your feet apart slightly and keep on your toes,” Bellamy instructed. Clarke did her best to follow his instructions. “Alright, now I’m going to hit a ball towards you and all you have to do is bring the racquet back and make contact. Oh, and get it over the net,” Bellamy said. He was being surprisingly patient with her now, and Clarke supposed his teacher persona had taken over his hatred for her.

Bellamy bounced a ball lightly off his racquet and over the next. Clarke reached her racquet out but the ball was too far out of her reach and it went flying past her.

“You have to move your feet, Clarke. Your opponent isn’t going to hit the ball straight to you,” Bellamy said impatiently.

“Right,” Clarke nodded. “Okay I’m ready this time,” she called. Bellamy hit another ball over the net and this time Clarke managed to get her racquet to it, but she hit it too softly and it didn’t even reach the net.

“Nice,” Bellamy said flatly.

“Shut up,” Clarke glared at him. Why did he have to be such an ass about the whole thing? He hit another ball towards her and this time she managed to get it over the net and into the court. “Yes!” she cheered, giving a fist pump.

“Yeah, you’re a regular Federer,” Bellamy said sarcastically.

“Who?” Clarke asked, annoyed that he was trying to take this small victory away from her.

“He’s… oh never mind. Just keep hitting,” Bellamy said exasperatedly. So much for being patient. Bellamy continued to hit balls to Clarke until he was satisfied she was hitting enough over the net.

“Well, your technique sucks, but it’ll do for now,” Bellamy sighed. Clarke rolled her eyes once again. What was it with this guy that made her eyes seem to be permanently raised to the sky? “Now let’s do backhand,” Bellamy said.

“What?” Clarke enquired.

“Well the ball isn’t always going to be on your right. And you can’t _run around_ the ball if it’s on your left,” Bellamy said as if it were obvious. And Clarke supposed it was obvious if she really thought about it.

“Fine,” Clarke sighed.

“You can do a two handed backhand,” Bellamy told her. “So when you swing, just keep both hands on the racquet,” he said. Clarke nodded and Bellamy started the process of hitting balls at her again. As it turned out, Clarke’s backhand was much worse than her forehand. Bellamy was getting more frustrated with her by the second.

“It’s not that hard Clarke! You don’t even need to hit it well, you just have to get it over the net!” he snapped.

“I’m trying!” Clarke said, her voice sounding whiny even to her own ears. “Is this how you treat the children you teach?” she huffed.

“Of course not, but they’re children and I actually like them. Plus, they can hit a ball better than you,” Bellamy sneered. Clarke gave a groan of frustration.

“Can we just end this? I’ve done my duty to Octavia and so have you,” Clarke complained. She was sweating profusely and her arms were killing her. She was not used to this kind of exercise. Meanwhile, Bellamy hadn’t even broken a sweat. But to be fair, she was the one running all over the court (and picking up all the balls) and he was just standing there hitting balls at her.

“I still have to teach you how to serve. And how to score,” Bellamy pointed out.

“Fine,” Clarke groaned. “But let’s make it quick. Do the scoring first so I can rest,” she said, walking over to her bag and grabbing her water bottle, gulping it down thirstily. Bellamy put his racquet down and walked over to her.

“Alright the scoring works like this. The first point is fifteen, the second is thirty and the third is forty. After forty, you win the game. If the score is forty all, that’s called deuce and the next point will be advantage to whoever wins it. If you win the point when you have the advantage, you win the game. If you lose, the score goes back to deuce. Whoever wins six games first wins the match. You with me so far?” Bellamy explains.

“Uhhh…” Clarke says. “There’s more?” she asked worriedly.

“Well there’s the matter of when to switch ends and sides and where you should be standing when other people are serving…” Bellamy continued. Clarke groaned.

“Why is this so complicated?” she asked.

“It’s really not,” Bellamy said.

“Let’s just quit and I’ll tell Octavia it was my fault,” Clarke said.

“No. I never quit unless there’s no other option. I told Octavia I’d teach you to play tennis and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, even if it kills me,” he stared at her solemnly.  

“Am I really that bad?’ Clarke sighed.

“You’re alright for a beginner,” Bellamy shrugged. Clarke knew that was as close to a compliment as she was going to get from him, but it was enough to make her pick up her racquet and head back to the court.

“Okay, teach me how to serve, Tennis Master,” Clarke said, throwing her hands up, hitting herself in the face with the racquet.  “Ouch.” She rubbed at her face while Bellamy laughed genuinely for the first time that day. “It’s not funny, you meanie,” Clarke scowled, but secretly she was happy to see him laughing, even if it was at her expense. At least it wasn’t malicious laughter like all the other times he’d laughed at her.

“Meanie? That the best you’ve got?” Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

“I just got hit in the face, I can’t think up good insults at a time like this,” Clarke replied.

“And whose fault is that?” Bellamy smirked.

“Just tell me how to serve,” Clarke said.

“Maybe I should give you a demonstration first,” Bellamy suggested. He retrieved his racquet and grabbed a couple of balls, putting one in his pocket and walking to the baseline. “Alright so, have to stand behind the baseline, and if you step over before you hit the ball, that’s called a foot fault. The ball has to land in the service square, otherwise it’s a fault. If you serve a fault you get another chance to serve, but if you serve a double fault the other side wins the point,” Bellamy explained. Clarke nodded.

“If the ball hits the net but still lands in the service court that’s called a let and you get to have your first serve again,” Bellamy continued.

“Got it,” Clarke said.

“Alright, now watch what I do,” Bellamy instructed. He then positioned his feet behind the baseline, bounced the ball a coupled of times, before reaching his racquet up and over his shoulder, behind his back, tossing the ball up in the air at the same time, before bringing the racquet back, his feet lifting off the ground and smashing the ball over the net and into the service court. Clarke’s mouth dropped open. There was no possible way she would be able to do that. And how did he look so good doing it? Wait. She did not just think that.

            “Okay, your turn,” Bellamy said, tossing her a ball. She managed to catch it and took Bellamy’s place at the baseline. Bellamy said nothing as she placed her feet the way he had and tried to imitate his serve. She failed miserably of course, missing the ball entirely. Bellamy burst into laughter as she tried again, hitting the ball directly into the ground at her feet.

            “It’s not funny,” she scowled.

            “I don’t even know how you managed to do that,” Bellamy laughed.

            “Can you stop laughing and just tell me what I’m doing wrong?” Clarke demanded. Bellamy grinned and walked over to her. He seemed to be in a much better mood all of a sudden.

            “Here,” he said, putting a ball in her left hand. He then moved her arms into the correct position, the ball resting against the racquet in front of her. “Alright, we’ll just go through the motions, don’t throw the ball yet,” Bellamy said. He moved to stand beside her, his hand still on her left arm, holding the ball to the racquet. He wasn’t that close to her, and other than where his hand was on her arm there was no physical contact, but Clarke suddenly felt self conscious and awkward… and not because she was uncomfortable with him touching her, but because it _wasn’t_ uncomfortable at all and she felt like it should have been. Because she didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her. But instead her skin was tingling where his hand rested and all her senses were focused on that touch and she wasn’t listening to a thing he was saying.

            “Clarke?” Bellamy said her name and she snapped out of her daze.

            “What?” she replied.

            “Did you get any of that?” Bellamy asked.

            “Sorry, I was thinking about… something else,” she grimaced, glad he didn’t know what she was actually thinking about. She shook off the weird feeling she’d had and tried to ignore his proximity to her. Bellamy huffed impatiently.

            “If you’re not going to take this seriously…” he started.

            “I am taking it seriously!” Clarke interrupted.

            “Okay. Bring your right hand up… no not like that… here,” he grabbed her other arm and showed her the correct way to move the racquet, simultaneously pressing himself against her so that he could reach. Clarke did her best to focus on his tennis instruction rather than the feel of his breath on her neck and the smell of his aftershave. She wondered how he would react if she just turned her head slightly and kissed him. Wait. No. Was she actually _attracted_ to Bellamy Blake? It wasn’t possible. Except, that she totally was and she knew it was the worst possible thing that could ever happen to her. Unable to stand it any longer, she quickly stepped away from him.

            “Don’t touch me,” she snapped. “I can do it myself.” She didn’t know if she imagined it but Bellamy seemed to flinch at her words. His mouth formed a thin line and he nodded curtly, moving away from her.

            “Of course you can,” he muttered. “Just… toss the ball up when your racquet reaches down your back, then… just hit it,” he said tersely. Clarke did as he said, and after a few tries she began to get the hang of it and actually started getting it over the net. Some balls even landed in the service court.

            “Good enough,” Bellamy said. “You can go now,” he said shortly. Clarke didn’t say anything as she gathered her things and left the court, not even a polite goodbye. She was annoyed at herself because it had seemed for a moment there that she and Bellamy were actually getting along, and she’d ruined it with her tactless rebuff.

            Of course, she knew that he was only trying to help her with her tennis, and that the feelings that she refused to think about were purely one sided. But that was exactly the reason she’d had to be sharp. Because him finding out that she may or may not have had some _tiny_ glimpse of attraction towards him (okay, it was more than that but she would never admit it out loud) was much worse than them hating each other forever.

            In any case, she’d done her duty to Octavia and other than maybe brief greetings here and there, she would never have to interact with him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Clarke go to the tennis tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than intended and my sister says it's lame but I think it's brilliant so you should read it anyway :D

            Octavia and Raven had had shirts made up especially for the competition, so Clarke was forced to wear Raven’s shirt. Lucky it had been kind of baggy on Raven, or Clarke would never have agreed to wear it. As it was, it was a little tight on her, but she wasn’t too fazed. It did say “Reyes” on the back of it, and Clarke figured she would spend the whole weekend correcting people on her name. Octavia also leant her a black tennis skirt, because apparently it just wasn’t fashionable to wear shorts on the tennis court.

            “I’m so excited!” Octavia said as she packed her things into the car. Clarke did her best to be excited as well, although she really wasn’t looking forward to the playing tennis part. Despite the lesson with Bellamy the day before, she knew she was going to be the worst one on the court. She was, however, looking forward to spending the weekend away with Octavia.

            That was until Octavia decided she was in charge of the music and insisted on playing Miley Cyrus the entire time. After half an hour of singing along to Bangerz, Octavia finally decided to start up a conversation, much to Clarke’s relief. Clarke’s relief was short lived however, as Octavia immediately brought up the topic of Bellamy.

            “So how did the lesson go anyway?” Octavia asked.

            “Well…” Clarke started. Even though Octavia knew Clarke and Bellamy weren’t fond of each other, Clarke still hated to say bad things about Bellamy in front of Octavia.

            “Oh come on, it can’t have been that bad!” Octavia exclaimed, sensing Clarke’s tone and reluctance to say anything.

            “He’s so temperamental!” Clarke huffed, giving in to the need to complain about him.

            “Okay, I admit he can be a bit temperamental, but he means well,” Octavia said, ever the defensive sister.

            “I’m not so sure about that,” Clarke muttered under her breath.

            “Seriously, what happened?” Octavia prompted. Clarke sighed.

            “For starters he was twenty minutes late because he had been hoping I’d leave,” Clarke informed Octavia. “Then he proceeded to insult me, as per usual, then every time he seemed to be patient and nice, he would immediately berate me for getting something wrong,” Clarke complained. She purposefully left out the weird part at the end where she’d freaked out when he touched her. And the part where she’d thought about it for the rest of the day.

            “He’s just stressed, he’s got a lot going on at the moment,” Octavia said, still making excuses for her brother. Clarke just rolled her eyes.

            “He also said I act like I think I’m better than he is,” Clarke remembered, feeling resentful.

            “Huh,” Octavia said noncommittally.

            “Oh my god, you agree with him!” Clarke accused.

            “No! Well, okay a little. I know you don’t do it on purpose, but you just have this air about you like you’re above everyone,” Octavia said with a shrug.

            “I don’t believe this,” Clarke folded her arms.

            “Why do you think he calls you princess?” Octavia laughed.

            “I’ve never heard him say that,” Clarke scowled.

            “Oh… he must just do it behind your back. Don’t take it personally, most people see past that right away,” Octavia assured her.

            “So why can’t he?” Clarke wondered aloud, then immediately regretted it, lest Octavia think she actually cared what Bellamy thought of her. But Octavia didn’t seem to read anything into her words.

            “I don’t know, why don’t you ask him this afternoon?” Octavia suggested. Clarke’s eyes widened at the words.

            “This afternoon?” she questioned, her voice sounding squeaky.

            “Yeah, for the tournament, duh!” Octavia shook her head. “Didn’t he tell you?”

            “No. You said it was a women’s tournament,” Clarke reminded her.

            “It is, but there’s also a men’s tournament on at the same time. If he’s not playing at the same time as us we can go watch him,” Octavia grinned. “He’s really good.”

            “I know,” Clarke said under her breath, regretting more than ever that she’d agreed to this whole thing.

-

            The two girls checked into their motel just after ten and Octavia immediately wanted to go and check out the pool since their first match wasn’t until after lunch. Clarke followed Octavia out there once they had both changed into their swimsuits.

            “Hey!” Octavia greeted the two girls who were already in the pool. She dived in and received a dirty look by the girls who she’d just splashed water all over. They clearly did not appreciate having their territory invaded. “Whoops, sorry!” she smiled after she surfaced, noticing the unfriendly gaze. Clarke rolled her eyes and slipped into the shallow end of the pool.

            “It’s fine,” one of the girls said a little snappishly.

            “I’m Octavia, this is Clarke. You guys here for tennis?” she asked, unperturbed by the less than friendly welcome.

            “Yeah. I’m Lexa, this is Anya,” the one who hadn’t snapped at them nodded towards her friend.

            “Are you pumped or what?” Octavia said enthusiastically.

            “Yeah,” Lexa said flatly, clearly not pumped at all. Or maybe just not interested in talking to Octavia about it.

            “We have to go now,” Anya said, immediately exiting the pool.

            “Catch you at the tournament,” Lexa nodded to Octavia and followed her friend.

            “They seemed nice,” Clarke laughed.

            “What was their problem anyway? They were already wet!” Octavia scowled before joining Clarke in laughter.

            “Are you girls going to help me unpack or what?” an unfamiliar male voice cut through their laughter. Clarke and Octavia turned to see a fine specimen of man standing by the pool gate (and he was exactly Octavia’s type, judging by the way her mouth dropped open when she saw him). The guy immediately looked embarrassed when he saw that the girls he was talking to were clearly not who he thought they were.

            “Oh sorry… thought you were someone else,” he apologised. “You haven’t seen two girls around have you? One is-,” he started.

            “Lexa and Anya?” Octavia interrupted. The guy nodded.

            “You have seen them then,” he guessed.

            “They left… but you don’t have to,” Octavia smiled flirtatiously. Clarke rolled her eyes. “I’m Octavia.”

            “Lincoln,” the guy replied, coming to sit by the pool.

            “And I’m Clarke,” Clarke added, but her words were totally ignored as Lincoln watched Octavia swim over to him and they started flirting shamelessly. Clarke sighed and left the pool to go back to their room, not bothering to tell Octavia where she was going. She immediately regretted this decision when she rounded the corner into the hall where their room was and saw Bellamy leaning against their door. She briefly considering ducking back out of sight and heading back to the pool, but by then he’d already looked up and seen her.

            “You know, when you text someone to meet you at your room, the polite thing to do is actually be there,” he scowled.

            “I didn’t text you,” Clarke retorted. “I don’t even have your number.”

            “Do you want it?” Bellamy asked.

            “I… what?” Clarke said, confused. Did he want her to have his number? Didn’t he hate her?

            “Sarcasm,” Bellamy said patronisingly. “Heard of it?”

            “So funny,” Clarke said, pursing her lips.

            “You have heard of it then?” he smirked as Clarke pushed past him to unlock the door. Bellamy switched on the lights as he followed her inside. Clarke immediately switched them back off.

            “It’s light outside, we don’t need the lights on. You’ll waste electricity,” Clarke scolded him. “And by the way, I didn’t say you could come in.”

            “Where’s Octavia?” Bellamy ignored her last comment. “She told me to meet her here.”

            “She’s at the pool, flirting with some guy she just met,” Clarke shrugged. She noticed Bellamy’s jaw clench and realised it may not have been the best idea to mention the flirting with strangers part. Bellamy was a little overprotective of his sister. “Relax, it’s just flirting,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

            “I am relaxed,” Bellamy lied. “I’m just going to wait here for her.” He crossed the room and sat at the small round table in the corner.

            “Fine,” Clarke sighed. She grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to get changed. After she was changed she walked back into the room, wondering what to do with herself while he was there. She must have stood in the bathroom doorway for too long, as Bellamy noticed her indecision.

            “Just sit down for god’s sake,” he ordered. “You’re making me uncomfortable.” Clarke considered staying standing just to spite him, but she decided it would be childish and instead sat by him at the table. She searched for something to say to him. She was sure they could get along if he could just see that she didn’t actually think she was superior to him. She considered for a moment just asking him why he didn’t like her. But no, then he would probably just tease her for caring if other people liked her or not.

            “So, you call me princess behind my back?” she said instead, remembering what Octavia had told her earlier. A more subtle way of finding out exactly what his problem was?

            “O told you about that, huh?” Bellamy said. Clarke nodded, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t give me that look, it’s just a nickname,” Bellamy rolled his eyes.

            “Well if it’s just a nickname, you won’t mind if I give one to you too,” Clarke said matter-of-factly. “If I’m the princess I guess you must be the prince,” she said with a snort. Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her and she realised how her words must have sounded. “Not like that!” she hurried to explain herself.

            “You want me to be your prince, princess?” Bellamy snickered. Clarke glared at him.

            “I _meant_ that you are just as arrogant and disdainful as me. Actually far more so, since I’m not either of those things, you just _think_ I am,” Clarke said crossly.

            “Whatever you say, princess,” Bellamy shook his head, smirking.

            “You’re like the beast from Beauty and the Beast. Before he turns back into a human,” Clarke said.

            “The beast? No way. If I were a Disney prince I’d be Flynn Rider,” Bellamy argued.

            “Eugene, you mean,” Clarke corrected.

            “Flynn is a cooler name,” Bellamy protested.

            “That’s exactly the point,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “He actually turned out to be nice, unlike you. Anyway, if I were a Disney princess I would be… Belle,” Clarke decided.

            “No, you’d be…” Bellamy thought for a moment, “one of the ugly stepsisters.” It was at that moment that Octavia walked in the door.

            “Oh hey Bell! What’s up? What are you guys talking about?” she sat on the bed closest to them as there were no more chairs.

            “Octavia, which Disney princess do you think I am?” Clarke asked her friend. Bellamy rolled his eyes.

            “Oh that’s easy, I’ve had this worked out for years, right Bell? You’re definitely Rapunzel, and I’m Jasmine,” Octavia informed her. “Bellamy is Prince Adam, aka the beast.” she laughed.

            “That’s what I said. He thinks he’s Flynn Rider,” Clarke rolled her eyes.  

            “Does he now?” Octavia gave her brother a knowing look that Clarke couldn’t quite figure out. Bellamy cleared his throat and stood up.

            “O, what did you want me for?” Bellamy asked her.

            “I thought we could walk to the tennis courts together. It’s just around the corner,” Octavia suggested.

            “Yeah, okay. I’ve gotta go get ready though. We’ll want to warm up so we should head round at about twelve,” Bellamy said.

            “Alright,” Octavia nodded.

            “I’m in room seventeen if you need me,” he said and exited the room.

-

            After the warm up Octavia put her through, Clarke had already had enough. And they still had to play another three sets, provided they won. Although Clarke was pretty sure they weren’t going to win. Octavia didn’t comment on Clarke’s lack of tennis ability and Clarke was glad of it, she already knew she was terrible.

            As it turned out, the girls they played against first were even worse than Clarke herself. They were nice enough girls, and clearly just there for a good time.

            “We don’t really play but we thought it would be fun,” Monroe shrugged after they introduced themselves and determined who was serving first.

            “Don’t worry about it, I only learnt how to play yesterday,” Clarke told her.

            “Oh cool,” Monroe smiled. She giggled her way through her first serve, only managing to actually get one ball in. Clarke and Octavia won the set 6-1 and Clarke began to think maybe the tournament wouldn’t be so bad, if all the girls were as casual as Monroe and Mel had been.

            Unfortunately, the next pair they were up against were Lexa and Anya, and both of them had murder in their eyes.

            “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be fun,” Clarke gulped.

            “It’ll be fine! Lincoln said they’re actually quite nice once you get to know them,” Octavia assured her.

            If Lincoln was right, and they were actually nice girls, they certainly weren’t on the tennis court. Lexa and Anya showed no mercy and Clarke had no hope. The only games she and Octavia won were Octavia’s serves, and they ended up losing 6-2.

            They shook hands with the other girls and thanked them for the match.

            “We’re going to go check out one of the bars by the motel later if you want to join us,” Octavia offered.

            “We’ll think about it,” Anya told her.

            “Thanks,” Lexa nodded and the two of them walked off to go and meet their new opponents. Clarke turned to Octavia.

            “Sorry we lost,” Clarke apologised. “You probably could have won if you were playing with Raven.”

            “It’s fine! It doesn’t matter, we got two matches. We can have a hit on one of the spare courts tomorrow. Maybe Monroe and Mel will play with us, they seemed nice. And anyway, now we can go and watch Bell!” Octavia smiled.

            “Hooray,” Clarke said sarcastically.

            The two girls made their way to where Bellamy was playing with his friend Miller whom Clarke had met that morning. They were playing on one of the spectator courts, which basically meant whoever was organising the event thought it was going to be a good match. Bellamy noticed the girls as they sat down and gave them a small wave before getting ready for his serve.

            “Who’s winning?” Octavia asked a guy sitting next to her. Clarke half listened to the conversation as she watched the match.

            “Blake and Miller,” the guy replied. “They’re so good, we lost to them earlier.”

            “You just think they’re hot,” his friend rolled his eyes.

            “Can you blame me?” the guy laughed. “I’m Monty by the way,” he introduced himself.

            “Hey, I’m Jasper,” his friend leant over him to extend his hand to Octavia.

            “Octavia,” Octavia said.

            “Such a pretty name,” Jasper told her.

Clarke completely tuned out at that point, not caring to hear this Jasper guy try to flirt with Octavia. Plus, she was kind of getting absorbed in the game now. Now that she knew the rules properly she could follow what was going on, but the truth was she was mostly just enjoying watching Bellamy play. He made it look so effortless, and he actually looked like he was enjoying himself.

Though most of the crowd watched the ball go back and forth across the court, Clarke’s eyes stayed focused on Bellamy, specifically his arms. She told herself she was watching him for his technique, trying to pick up tips in case she decided to continue playing tennis casually. But it wasn’t long before her mind drifted and she imagined those arms circling around her, pulling her in close before he kissed her and then-

“Clarke? Did you hear me?” Octavia interrupted her thoughts.

“Sorry, what?” Clarke replied.

“Lincoln just texted me, I’m going to go watch him play. Do you want to come?” Octavia asked.

“Uh, no thanks, I’ll just stay here,” Clarke responded. Octavia raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okaay,” she drawled.

“I just can’t be bothered walking over there,” Clarke shrugged. Octavia seemed sceptical but she shrugged and walked off to find Lincoln. After she’d gone Monty sidled up to Clarke.

“So, Blake or Miller?” he asked her.

“What? I don’t…” she glanced back towards the court. Bellamy and Miller had just one a game and Bellamy was pouring water from his water bottle over his head. A couple of girls whistled and Clarke gulped, turning back to Monty. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Does Octavia know you’ve got the hots for her brother?” Jasper asked her. She frowned at him. These guys were being awfully forward for two people she’d just met. She was about to deny it again, but she figured there wasn’t much point, she’d clearly made it way too obvious.

“Shut up,” she said instead. The boys smirked at each other.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jasper snorted.

“Okay, let’s make a pact, tonight when we go out, you hook up with Bellamy and I will hook up with Miller,” Monty proposed.

“And I will hook up with Octavia!” Jasper declared.

“Sorry Jasper, I don’t think that’s going to happen. She’s got her sights set on someone else,” Clarke smiled at his enthusiasm. Jasper’s face fell a little.

“Damn. Well I will hook up with… someone!” he decided.

“Okay, you guys do what you want and good luck to you. I’m not hooking up with Bellamy,” Clarke refused.

“Suit yourself. Hey look, it’s match point,” Jasper said. The three of them turned their attention back to the game just in time to see Bellamy ace his serve and win the match. He looked up at the stand and caught Clarke’s eye, giving her a wink before heading into the net to shake his opponents’ hands. Clarke groaned internally at the backflip her stomach did when he winked at her. Why did he have to mess with her all the time? The wink didn’t escape the attention of Monty and Jasper either.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hook up with him? He seems like he’d be up for it,” Monty said to her. Clarke just scowled and stormed off to find Octavia.

“What’s her problem?” she heard Jasper wonder out loud as she left the stand.

-

Clarke was really looking forward to having a drink after an exhausting day of playing tennis and being irritated by Bellamy Blake. Too bad she would have to endure him for a while longer as he and Miller were tagging along with her and Octavia to the bar. The place was crowded as the four of them went to the bar to buy drinks. Octavia had invited practically everyone she’d met that day, and it seemed everyone had decided to take her up on the invitation, even Anya and Lexa.

Clarke was on her second drink when Monty and Jasper barrelled in the door and crashed into the bar on either side of her.

“Hey Clarke, good news!” Jasper said, “We’ve come up with the perfect plan for you to hook up with- ow!” Clarke stomped on Jasper’s foot before he could continue. She glanced at Octavia and her brother to make sure they hadn’t noticed anything suspicious, but O was too busy introducing Lincoln to her brother. By the look on Bellamy’s face he wasn’t too impressed.

“Will you two stop it?” Clarke hissed.

“Hey Monty, Jasper,” Octavia finally noticed the two boys were there. “Jasper, come with me, I want to introduce you to someone I met today.” She dragged him off and he wiggled his eyebrows at Monty. Monty turned his attention back to Clarke.

“So how do you think I can get Miller to talk to me?” he asked her.

“How about you just go and introduce yourself?” Clarke suggested.

“I already did that when we played against him today,” Monty sighed. Clarke smirked as Miller walked up behind Monty but she didn’t say anything.

“Okay, well congratulate him for winning today,” she continued as Miller eavesdropped.

“Okay, I could do that,” he nodded. “Just… walk up to him and say… congratulations on a great match today,” he said firmly.

“Thanks,” said Miller with a grin. Monty spun around at the speed of light.

“Oh uh… you’re welcome,” Monty gulped. Clarke couldn’t see his face but she was sure he was bright red.

“You play pretty well yourself. How long have you been playing?” Miller asked. The two of them continued the conversation as Bellamy, standing behind Miller, caught Clarke’s eye and raised his eyebrows at his friend before drawing a heart in the air and pointing at Monty and Miller. Clarke laughed and shook her head before turning and looking around for Octavia. She was blatantly flirting with Lincoln, her hand constantly finding ways to touch him and he was eating it up. Jasper wasn’t far away, talking to some girl with messy black hair whom apparently Octavia had met but Clarke didn’t recognise.

Lexa and Anya were dirty dancing on the dance floor while Bellamy was being chatted up by two girls. Clarke felt a stab of disappointment when she saw him laughing with them, then cursed herself for being disappointed. Honestly, what did she expect? She knew he hated her, and she didn’t really like him anyway.

“Urgh,” Clarke groaned, putting her head in her hands.

“Hey Clarke, wanna do shots with us?” Monroe asked as she and Mel sat down beside her at the bar. Tempting though it was to get blackout drunk with the two girls, Clarke declined.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to go,” she decided. She was feeling tired anyway and she didn’t want to bring down everyone around her, though she knew she’d probably regret it in the morning when Octavia gushed about what a good time she’d had. Clarke made her way to the door, but was stopped when someone caught her arm. She turned to see Bellamy and she quickly pulled her arm away from him, hating the lingering presence of his warm hand on her arm.

“Leaving so soon, princess?” he asked her, using the nickname he’d previously kept a secret from her.

“Yeah. I’m not really feeling it,” she shrugged.

“Stay for one more drink? I’ll pay,” Bellamy offered. Clarke paused, considering the offer. She finally nodded her assent, figuring if Bellamy was willing to try and get along with her then she may as well go along with it.

“Congrats on your win today,” she said after taking the first sip of her drink.

“Thanks,” Bellamy grinned. “It was easy, actually.”

“So modest,” Clarke said with a roll of her eyes.

“False modesty is basically just lying,” Bellamy said. “It’s irritating as shit, like people should just admit to what they know they’re good at instead of being so fake all the time. I can’t stand fake people.”

“But,” Clarke countered, “if you don’t pretend to be modest, people assume you think you’re better than them.”

“It’s so easy to see through though. Whether people are being falsely modest or not, I can always tell what they really think of themselves. I’m extremely good at reading people,” Bellamy claimed.

“Is that so?” Clarke responded. “I don’t think you’re that good, because you got me all wrong, Bellamy Blake.”

“Do I?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I don’t think I’m better than you at all,” Clarke assured him.

“I know you don’t, Clarke,” he shook his head and took a sip of his beer.

“Why are you being so nice, anyway?” Clarke asked suspiciously.

“I’m always nice,” Bellamy defended.

“Don’t give me that. Just yesterday you were berating me for being horrible at tennis and showing up twenty minutes late, hoping I’d leave. I know you don’t like me,” Clarke accused. Bellamy shrugged.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” he said unconvincingly. He took another sip of his beer, finishing it off. “Or maybe I’m just drunk and I’ve forgotten I’m not supposed to be nice to you.”

“Not supposed to be?” Clarke questioned. Bellamy just clamped his mouth shut. Clarke rolled her eyes and finished her drink. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

She put her glass down on the bar and walked outside. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Are you following me?” she called without turning around.

“No,” Bellamy called back. Clarke sighed and stopped to wait for him.

“At least walk with me instead of acting like a creepy stalker,” she said when he’d caught up with her. They walked in silence for a while before Clarke thought to ask a question that had been burning through her head since she’d watched him play that day.

“Bellamy?”

“Mmm?”

“Why are you here?”

“On this street or in this world?”

“You know what I mean,” Clarke said. “You’re obviously so much better than everyone else here. Even Miller. Didn’t you ever want to play professionally?”

Bellamy was silent again for a minute and Clarke thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“’Course I wanted to,” he finally answered. “But… unforeseen circumstances prevented it.”

“Your parents?” Clarke asked, wondering if she was prying too much. She had known Octavia long enough to know her parents had died when she was fifteen. Clarke watched Bellamy in the dim streetlight as he nodded slowly.

“I was twenty… well on my way to playing in my first grand slam. Then… my parents died in that car accident and I had to drop everything to look after Octavia. She was only fifteen after all,” Bellamy sighed. “Sometimes… I imagine what if would have been like if I could have kept going. I mean, I was never going to be the world number one, but…” he trailed off. Clarke stayed silent, not wanting to break his reverie.  “I love my sister, though. And I love my job. Don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m bitter about it all,” he shrugged, and glanced over at Clarke.

“I would never think that,” Clarke replied. They had made it back to the hotel and Bellamy walked Clarke to her door.

“Clarke…” Bellamy said softly. Clarke leant against the door, and she couldn’t help but think that if she were in a romance movie he would kiss her right about now. She tried to ignore that thought and focus on what he was saying. “I owe you an apology,” he said.

“What for?” Clarke asked.

“For… being so horrible all these years,” he said. “I think you’re beautiful and talented and I admire you for studying art at college when I know your mother wants you to study medicine.”

“How did you know…” Clarke started.

“Clarke, please,” Bellamy interrupted her. “I’ve had just enough to drink that I can finally say this to you, so just let me say it before I shut my mouth forever.” Clarke nodded, her stomach twisting, anticipating what he was going to say. It hit her then that he’d just called her beautiful and talented and her heart began to race.

“I never hated you, okay? I was just mean to you because I thought… and I still think… that I’ll never be good enough for you. It was just easier to push you away than to get close to you and have to bear the weight everyday of how in love with you I am,” Bellamy choked out. “And I know it’s no excuse. But I’ll be nice to you from now on, I promise. Even if it kills me.”

Clarke was so stunned she couldn’t respond, she just stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Bellamy stared at her for half a second before giving a groan and crashing his mouth down on hers. Clarke let out a whimper when his lips met hers and his arms circled around her, pressing her firmly against him, just like she’d imagined. She wanted to grab his shirt and pull him into her room, continue this forever, but all too soon he was pulling away.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said, and he turned and quickly made his way down the hallway towards his own room.

“Bellamy, wait!” Clarke called, but he didn’t stop. Clarke wondered if she should chase him, but instead she just unlocked her door and went inside. She pressed her fingers to her lips, hardly believing it had been real. But it _had_ been. And he liked her. No, he _loved_ her. And she could finally admit that she liked him too. She smiled stupidly to herself as she flopped down on her bed, reliving the moment over in her mind.

But, she realised, he didn’t _know_ she liked him back. If she had his number she would text him right now and tell him, or call him, or something. She could go to his room. She immediately decided against that. She needed to give herself time to process the whole thing. She’d find him first thing tomorrow that she was in love with him. She fell asleep with a huge smile on her face, letting dreams of Bellamy take over her head.

-

Octavia woke Clarke the next morning by sneaking into their hotel room. Octavia grinned sheepishly at Clarke when her eyes fluttered open to see Octavia closing the door behind her.

“Did you have a good time with Lincoln?” Clarke asked sleepily.

“You know it. Did you have a good time with Bellamy?” Octavia replied. Clarke bolted upright.

“What are you talking about?” she asked hurriedly. Okay, so Bellamy had confessed that he loved her last night, and they kissed… but how did Octavia know? Clarke wasn’t sure she was ready to tell yet. At least, not until she’d told Bellamy how she felt.

“Miller said you left together,” Octavia prompted.

“Oh… yeah. It was okay. I think we’re finally getting along,” Clarke shrugged, hoping she was being convincing.

“It’s about time. Do you know how tiring it is when the two people you care about most hate each other?” Octavia sighed.

“Sorry,” Clarke grinned.

“Hey, it’s the final today,” Octavia said excitedly. “If Bellamy and Miller win and Lincoln and Nyko win they’ll be playing against each other!”

“Who will you root for?” Clarke asked.

“I’d never be stupid enough to bet against Bellamy,” Octavia laughed. “Let’s go swim in the pool before the final. We don’t need to watch the semis.”

“Um… I’ll catch up. I have to… go and thank Bellamy for walking me home last night,” Clarke said lamely.

“Alriiiight,” Octavia said sceptically before changing into her bikini and heading to the pool. Clarke knew Octavia knew there was something going on, but she was glad her friend had elected not to pry.

Clarke got dressed and went to Bellamy’s room, number seventeen. She heard voices inside so she guessed he was in there with Miller. She took a deep breath before knocking on the door. A second later a shirtless Miller appeared at the door.

“Clarke?” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Bellamy,” she said, trying to see past him into the room.

“Um. He’s not exactly… uh… here,” Miller grinned. Clarke rolled her eyes. Miller was a terrible liar.

“Is he avoiding me? I know he’s in there, I heard voices,” Clarke sighed. “Bellamy!” Clarke called. “I really need to talk to you about… what happened last night.” She figured he would have already told Miller anyway.

“Clarke.” Miller said. “He’s really not in there. Did something happen between you two last night?” Great, so he didn’t know. She was about to tell him to just forget it, when a voice from inside the room called out to her.

“Go Clarke!” came Monty’s voice. “I knew you had it in you. We both fulfilled the pact!” Miller smiled at Clarke’s shocked face (although she really shouldn’t have been surprised).

“Bye, Clarke,” he said before shutting the door.

“Seems like everyone got lucky last night,” Clarke muttered. Miller had left her with no clue as to where Bellamy was, so she supposed she’d just have to talk to him after the match.

-

While a lot of people had left last night, there were still plenty of people who had stuck around to watch the finals. Bellamy and Miller and Lincoln and Nyko had both won, so they’d be playing against each other. The women’s final was first though, Lexa and Anya were playing against the girls who had been flirting with Bellamy last night.

“Good luck!” Clarke called to Anya as she passed.

“We don’t need luck,” Anya said stonily.

“Of course,” Clarke rolled her eyes as she sat beside Octavia in the stands.

Anya was right of course, she and Lexa didn’t need luck at all, they won by so much it hardly seemed fair. The other girls were good sports about it, and Anya and Lexa actually smiled when they were presented with their trophies.

Then it was time for the men’s final. Everyone cheered as both teams walked onto the court. Clarke waited for Bellamy to look up and catch her eye but he kept his eyes firmly on the court.

“If Bellamy loses he’ll be impossible to be around for days,” Octavia said to Clarke.

“Let’s hope he wins then,” Clarke replied.

“He’ll be just as unbearable if he wins,” Octavia laughed.

Down on the court a coin was tossed and Lincoln took the first serve.

As the match progressed, the knots in Clarke’s stomach grew tighter and tighter, and it wasn’t because she was nervous about who was going to win (she knew it would be Bellamy), but because she hadn’t quite figured out what she was going to say to him. She wished she could ask Octavia for advice, but it was her _brother_ so it would be weird, right? Or would it be better _because_ it was her brother so she’d know him better.

When the score stood at 3-2, and the guys were drinking water and changing ends, Clarke turned to Octavia.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she started.

“You’re in love with my brother?” Octavia said with a smirk.

“How on earth did you know that?” Clarke asked, bewildered.

“I have eyes, Clarke. I’ve never seen something so obvious in my entire life,” Octavia rolled her eyes. “He loves you too, in case you were wondering. You’re the Rapunzel to his Flynn Rider,” she laughed.

“I know he does, he told me last night,” Clarke informed her.

“Did he now?” Octavia said, her face filled with glee.

“Only I didn’t say anything back and I need to tell him but I don’t know how,” Clarke admitted.

“My advice? After he wins, just run down there and kiss him,” Octavia suggested. Clarke didn’t respond as they turned their attention back to the game. They were only sitting two rows back from the court, it wouldn’t take much to go down there. Would it be crazy? Most likely.

“Can you relax?” Octavia said sharply. “I can hear your heart pounding from here. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t do it,” Clarke said quietly. Octavia sighed sympathetically.

“Okay, I’ll create a diversion. Just wait for my signal,” she said, standing up and going to talk to Monty and Jasper, Jasper’s new friend, then Monroe and Mel and Lexa and Anya, plus some other people that clearly she’d managed to make friends with while Clarke wasn’t paying attention. She came back grinning from ear to ear.

“What are you up to?” Clarke hissed.

“You’ll see,” was all Octavia would say.

At match point, Octavia gripped Clarke’s hands tightly.

“Are you ready?” Octavia whispered excitedly. The set score stood at 5-4, and the game score was 40-15 with Miller serving. He bounced the ball and then smashed it over the net. Lincoln tipped the ball with his racquet, managing the get it back over the net, straight onto Bellamy’s racquet who volleyed it gently over, dropping just over the net so Nyko had to dive for it, the ball flying straight into the air. Bellamy smirked as he brought his racquet back and smashed it over Nyko’s head and into the back corner, winning the match.

Octavia immediately jumped to her feet, shrieking in delight, her arms in the air. The rest of the crowd was cheering too, and then all of a sudden, Monty and Jasper were running onto the court, followed by Mel and Monroe, and then Lexa and Anya, then everyone else in the stands.

“What the…?” Clarke wondered.

“Go!” Octavia urged her. Clarke’s eyes widened in understanding and she quickly made her way through the crowd and onto the court. She wore a determined look on her face as she barged through the crowd, not caring who she crashed into. She grabbed Bellamy’s arm and he turned towards her. She barely had time to register the look of surprise on his face before she grabbed his face and stood on her tip toes to kiss him. It only took him a second to respond, pulling her closer as her arms circled around his neck.

“I love you too,” she whispered into his mouth and she could feel him smiling into her mouth. They broke apart, grinning at each other.

“Congrats mate,” Miller clapped Bellamy on the back, but he hardly seemed to notice.

“Thanks,” Bellamy responded absentmindedly, his undivided attention focused on Clarke.

“You know, Flynn Rider wasn’t a prince until he married Rapunzel,” Clarke told him.

“Are you proposing, princess?” Bellamy smirked.

“You know what I mean, you jackass,” Clarke gave him a playful smack on the arm.

“Yeah I know,” Bellamy grinned.


End file.
